Last week I knocked Bob “Frogspread” Cat off his high and mighty perch. This fucker has won the comp the last 3 years and needs a touch up. He is the sort of bloke you love to whack at any opportunity. Tall, skinny, balding and with an ass borrowed from a frying pan the bloke had to be good at something. Sports it is and the broomstick looking fucker is very very very competitive. With solid stint in the WAFL culminating in a runner up medal only to the great Dean Kemp in the Sandover count…given a crack at the AFL this bloke coulda won a brownlow.
Admittedly I was lucky with my victory over the very knowledgeable man but if you are going to win over the course of a long season you need a little luck. He only needed 400 points from Goddard (c), Lockyer, Swan and Leon Davis. Back that quartet with one of them being your skipper to get you the lazy 4 ton you need for victory all day every day. Then… the heavens opened and the big fella above looked down upon me…Davis out pre match…Swan had a stinker…pass the sugar.
Frogspread has been calling me aaaaaaaalllllllll week trying to get the gloat and brag from me he was expecting. It was not forth coming. I know I was lucky but I dont give a fuck if I win another game this year now that I have knocked off the shoulda won a brownlow bloke.
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